


First Kisses

by chillafterdark



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillafterdark/pseuds/chillafterdark





	1. First Kiss: At a House Party

Will leans back, planting his ass against the heavy glass table Pocket keeps out here and letting his legs spread a little, and looks at Chris.

"Wait, you’ve seriously never been?"

"Nope." 

"Or to anything like that?"

"When I go to concerts, it’s with a pass and security, not a tent and a lifetime supply of bottled water." Chris’s voice is dry, sarcastic, and Will grins at him. 

"We get a house." After a beat he says, “You should come. Next year."

Over Chris’s shoulder he sees Cam and Ashley walk up to the sliding glass door and pause. Cam raises his hand, a red plastic lighter and a small wooden box pinched between his thumb and forefinger, and lifts a brow, tilting his head to the side.

He spares a glance at Chris, who’s looking down at the empty clear plastic cup in his hands with a slightly furrowed brow, and chances a glance back at the house. He shakes his head, small and as barely there as he can make it, and is rewarded by Cam rolling his eyes and putting his hand on Ashley’s shoulder. Her grin lights up her face, and in the yellow outside light he can just see her lips pursing to make ridiculous kissy faces at him before Cam drags her away.

When he turns back Chris is looking at him, squinting just a little, and he can’t wait any more - god only knows who will want to pop out next. “Hey," he says, and he reaches out to take Chris by the forearm, pull him a little bit closer.

Chris’s face relaxes, just a little, and he shuffles the few steps forward, stepping up until his feet are planted between Will’s. He just watches him, calm and curious, and Will can’t help wondering what he’s thinking, because he so plainly  _is_. He  _always_  is.

For weeks they’ve been playing this game. It had taken him a while to be sure they were on the same page – Chris can be reserved, and he’s an actor, for pity’s sake. Between that and his sense of humor, it had taken Will a while to be sure that he was right, that the things that drew them together over and over, at house parties and long, rambling meals with loose and sprawling groups of mutual friends, wasn’t just the things that made them the same. Because attraction is one thing, and it’s certainly easy when it comes to Chris, but the rest is just….

Because there’s a lot there – a lot they have in common, like the family thing, and in some ways the church thing, and beyond that a sense of responsibility that they don’t always share with their friends. Will knows he’s older than Chris, has always known who Chris was, but sometimes he forgets that, because in a lot of ways Chris is the old man of the group. He gets shit done, and he has ideas, and they’ve spent the last few weeks ending up talking about them, squeezing together at the ends of tables and in quiet corners. 

And then tonight. Tonight they talked about the book Chris had peeled himself away from to come here, and about ideas for other stories, and about their sisters and their coworkers and their friends and Coachella. And Chris brought him a drink and then rested one hand low on his back, and something about the look on Chris’s face made him  _sure_  that it wasn’t just him spiraling into this. And so he said, “Do you wanna go out back for a minute?" and Chris looked at him through lowered lashes (and that’s the other thing – Chris is  _amazing_  to look at and fine, he’s shallow) and said, “Yeah, sure." And then Cam and Ashley were peeking in, and then Will put his hand on Chris’s arm to pull him closer, and here they are.

"Yeah?" Chris is standing in front of him, still watching him, a grin creeping up the corner of his mouth.

Will takes a deep breath and says, “So I think I’m gonna kiss you now."

Chris licks his lips and let the grin grow, shuffles a little closer, and Will’s heart trips on its way into beating overtime. “Oh really?"

"Seems like the thing to do. If you’re okay with that."

"I think it might be about that time, yeah."

And that last is a quiet little murmur, because Will has leaned forward to slide his nose against Chris’s. This is… it’s  _so_  good, the tension thick and honeysweet. You only get one first kiss with somebody, and after a month of wondering he’s okay to let this hang between them for another second or two, now that he  _knows_. “There’s a kissing time?" he murmurs back.

Chris huffs out a laugh that skitters across Will’s cheek on warm breath, and just as his hands settle on Will’s waist he says, low and dry, “Don’t miss your moment."

"Give me a second. Dramatic tension is important," and he can’t help grinning into it because it’s perfect, that he can make these jokes to somebody he knows is going to get them. The tiny bubble of hope and joy that has been growing and expanding takes him by surprise, because  _oh god_ , this could be so good,  _please_  let it be good.

"I’m tired of waiting," is all Chris says before he slides one hand up to cup his cheek, turning his face so that their lips can come together. 

And there it is.

Chris kisses him sweet and light, their lips clinging in one sweet slide after another. The rhythm is slow, easy, and when Will breathes out shaky and stuttered through his nose Chris turns his head just a little, lets his hand slide into Will’s hair and the hand at Will’s waist clenches into a fist and tugs just as Chris slips his tongue into Will’s mouth.

There’s rum and sweet mint, but mostly it’s just a rush of Chris and his own beating heart, because  _this_. Chris’s hands are firm, pulling but not grasping, and he lets his feet shift a little wider apart when his hands come up, mirroring Chris and holding on. It stays slow, so easy, like those little grins Chris will give him when he’s being silly, and maybe before it’s felt a little like play, just one more experiment in make-believe, only right now Chris is humming into his mouth and pulling back to rest his forehead against Will’s own.

“ _Chris_ ," he breathes out through a smile, and Chris whispers his name and it sounds like he’s smiling when he does. Chris comes back for more, and Will’s ready for him when he does, when he steps closer to press their chests together and kiss him again, and this time it goes  _dirty_. They’re pressed so close now, and he clutches at Chris’s back and neck to pull him even closer, and he tilts his head even more because he just wants to be closer to him, and his mouth is so warm and his lips are soft, and when Chris hums into the kiss again he can’t help smiling, can’t help letting the kiss break into a pair of grins. 

"Okay," Chris murmurs, breathless.

It’s not a question, but still he says, “Yeah," and Chris chuckles and lets his hands wrap around his shoulders and buries his face in Will’s neck, so that Will slips his arms around Chris’s waist and holds on, lets himself hide and catch up, because he always falls so damn hard.  _Please_ , is all he can think, and he would feel more raw if Chris weren’t right there, holding on just as tight.

When Chris pulls back they kiss one more time, and this time he feels like he started it, although it’s so effortless he can’t quite be sure. It all seems easier now, so much less fraught, like he’s had his tiny little breakdown and now he can just kiss him. When the kiss breaks Chris keeps holding on, nuzzles against his cheek, and says, “We should probably go back in."

He pulls back to look at him, at the sweet smile across his face. He looks  _happy_ , and Will’s sure he looks just about as goofy.

"Probably, yeah." Nobody lets go, neither of them move at all and they seem to be stuck staring at each other until Will says, “But I think we should go out sometime." 

Chris pulls back a little, runs his hands over Will’s shoulders, and drops his gaze to follow them. “I think that’s probably a good idea. I’d like that." 

"Okay. So I’ll call you." Chris is still looking at his shoulder, so Will says, “Tomorrow. I don’t want to wait any more, either."

Chris looks back up at him then and says, “Okay, good." He cocks his head to the side and makes a playful face, and says, “You gonna kiss me good night tonight?

Will watches him just for a second. “I don’t want to stop kissing you  _now_ , so yeah, I think I’m gonna give it a shot."

Chris kisses him one more time, quick and impulsive and hard, just a smack of lips, and then says, “Good," before he turns and heads back for the house.

When he does, though, he lets his hand slide down Will’s arm to snag his hand, to tug him into a follow. And Will goes.


	2. First Kiss: At the Front Door

“Oh god.” Will hasn’t budged from the door where he’s been standing for a good thirty seconds, completely ignoring Chris’ flustered invitation in. “I’m…you’re not ready. I’m early.” He checks his watch, “ _Really_  early. I’m sorry, I was just-”

“It’s okay.”  Having Will show up when he’s in his ratty jeans and a white undershirt when he’s spent the better part of an hour harassing Ashley over the phone about his wardrobe…well, it’s less than ideal.. Especially because Will’s wearing _that shir_ t, the shirt he’d worn at Ashley’s summer party, the one that grips his biceps delicious-tight. It’s the palest green; Chris remembers him in it, flush skinned and so handsome. What Chris remembers most, though, is way Will had looked at him, bright and smiling at over Ashley’s head to a joke only they got.  

There are so many things to catalogue since then, the flitter of moments when Will had only been a touch from him but he’d been so unsure of what was furling tighter and tighter in his own body, something warm, love-like but frightening. Because Chris  _doesn’t_  believe in love as that fairy tale, has known since his first heartbreak that no one can love with the permanence he persists in longing for.

Just outside his door Will looks warm to the touch and Chris’s palms itch to burn, to smooth up and over his arms and neck, the insides of his elbows and into the crease of his thighs. He breathes and tries to settle himself as heat washes over him, tries not to let it feed the jitters he’s already been battling for the last hour he’s agonized over what to wear, the last week he’s freaked out (silently and also not so much) over their impending date, and all the fraught moments between that sunlit smile and this one.

They’re stuck on opposite sides of his door, fumbling around words with eyes that shy from meeting because suddenly this really feels like  _it_ , like a heavy weighted moment, where crossing means the steps from friendship and longing into something  _more_.

“I’ll just,” Chris swallows hard. “Go get dressed, um-”

“Yes! Not that you don’t-” Will clears his throat and tries again. “You look great, I mean. Of course. You always do-”

“I know what-”

“I’ll just wait-” They both stop.

“You could wear that too, if you wanted-”

If Will’s been the brave one so far, he thinks recklessly, shouldn’t he try, too?

“Will.” Chris breathes in the hint of scent he catches whenever Will is near. It makes him feel too big in his spark-warming skin. “Shut up, okay?”

He moves fast enough that he won’t have to read what Will might be thinking in his eyes; fast enough that he won’t have time to second guess or talk himself out of it. Chris leans just a little past the frame of the door until one hand cups Will’s smooth cheek.

It breathes to life with the smallest whisper of their lips together. Will inhales sweet against him; Chris feels it, the glide of air past his own skin and it’s like being swallowed in, in the most tender way. Under his fingers Will’s skin is so warm, vibrant, thrumming and thrumming and thrumming.

It’s the strangest moment — he’s both losing himself and taking everything in: the long curve of Will’s jaw shifting just a bit as they really settle into the kiss, his wet lips and the shock of a tongue, gentle, like he’s being asked for something really precious. Will’s hand wraps around him, palm skimming his hip and then settling like it’s been shaped just for the small of Chris’s back, and everything is hot and bright all around and between them.

“Wha -” Will pulls away then, just far enough to whisper against his mouth and when Chris opens his eyes it’s to meet his. For the first time in years Chris really feels it; feels his age for once. It’s something giddy and recklessly happy, something that swings through his body so hard he bops a little on his toes and has to bite his lip to hide the wide, wide smile he feels breaking through.  

“Just,” Chris exhales the word, helplessly pulled back toward Will’s mouth by the matching smile on his lips, kisses him light and fast, and then again and has to hold in the sharp taste of laughter. “It felt weird.”

“Kissing me?” Will pulls back enough to really look at him but doesn’t move his hand from Chris’ back. Instead he tightens his fingers, tugging at Chris’ shirt a little.

“No.” Will wanted Chris enough to risk asking, Chris reminds himself. So close to him, flushed skin tempting and offered, this doesn’t feel like a risk. It feels like giving.  “It felt weird to  _not_  be kissing you.”


	3. First Kiss: After a Blowjob

“I would steer clear of that one, honey.” Ashley’s whisper startles Chris into jumping a little, his muscles tensing and she snorts a laugh before she continues. “He’ll try very hard to fall in love with you and we all know  _you_  don’t want  _that_." 

Chris turns his face to frown at her but she’s not looking at him, she’s looking across the room at the group of guys Chris had, admittedly, been staring at.

“What?” he tries but she just snorts again and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Which one?” he challenges.

“The one you’ve been checking out for the last fifteen minutes. He’s not for eating, I don’t care how hungry you are. He’s a doll, he’s taken, and he’s searching—quite admirably, might I add—for The One.“

 _Fine then._  Chris manages to pull his eyes away and back to Ashley. “How can he be taken if he’s searching for The One?” he asks but Ashley just takes his arm and leads him away.

———

Chris and Will become friends despite Ashley’s warning and despite several early and passionate disagreements over decidedly unimportant things. They have too much to talk about and too much opportunity to talk. It turns out Will is an old friend of Ashley’s and runs in several of the same social circles as Chris. And Chris has always struggled to make friends, finding it ironically more difficult now that he’s famous and popular and growing into his skin in a way that even he finds aesthetically pleasing. 

Plus Will is  _fun_. And when he sheepishly admits he’s a long time Glee-watcher it’s endearing and adorable instead of creepy and a let down. Will talks about Glee in a way that indicates that  _that_  Chris Colfer, the one tied up with “Kurt Hummel” and “gay icon” and “role model”, is a faint shadow of the one he’s getting to know for real now.

So, they become friends. Will judges Chris for taking sex when and where he can and being happy with it, for putting his career and his status so far ahead of what Will calls ‘personal fulfilment’ and Chris judges Will for talking about romance and soulmates and then judges him harder when he admits he isn’t sure that the guy he’s been dating for the last three years is It for him.

———

“Don’t you want to find the one?”

So they’re doing this again. They’re drunk and the last people left at the bar, everyone else having prioritized sleep or a hook up or a better club over sticking around.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I still don’t believe in there being a One.”

“Ahh,” Will drawls, his lips quirking up and not for the first time, Chris wonders whether he secretly quite enjoys these debates. “You think there is more than one One?”

Chris does his best to look unimpressed even while Will leans in closer to him, a steadying hand on his hip and he confides, “Maybe you have  _two_  soulmates.”

Shaking his head, Chris lets Will touch him, enjoying the tactility of him because Chris knows Will can be guarded in the wrong situation. The throb of music is heavy and as Chris takes a sip of his drink, his eyes scan the room and he regrets not having someone in town to enjoy his weekend with. “I don’t think there’s any such thing as a soulmate. I think you have varying degrees of compatibility with other people and if someone wants romance or that kind of family in their life then they find the best match they can within a reasonable amount of time, make sure the compatibility flows both ways, and then settle.”

“Pfffft,” is Will’s only reply though Chris is sure he’s said similar about a dozen times before. Will’s hand squeezes his hip. “That’s a very sad way of looking at things.

Chris clicks his tongue. “Only if I’m desperate to find someone to complete me and I’m quite happy completing myself thank you very much.”

For a second Will tilts his head, his smile fading as he considers the insult for what it is. He takes a gulp of his drink and pulls the smile back into place. “Masturbation,” he whispers and Chris groans and rolls his eyes once more.

“Now you know that’s not altogether true,” Chris tells him, his own smile turning just a little bit dirty. “I’m happy without the idea of soulmates, you’re not, so quit asking me about it and focus on your own issues.” He pauses and watches Will’s smile falter. He shouldn’t ask, but he absolutely has to ask. “How is Samuel?”

Will blinks once, slowly and says in a way that halts the conversation, “I’m not sure.” 

———

Will and Sam make it another three months. Chris is there for one of their last big fights, standing awkwardly in Will’s kitchen as they scream at each other in the bedroom and then bolt past him for the front door.

When Will comes back it’s to the sound of the front door slamming and he’s alone. He leans heavily against his kitchen counter and he won’t meet Chris’s eye but tells him sharply, “Don’t you dare say a word.”

And Chris won’t, even though he knows Samuel feels pressured and boxed in because Will’s expectations are too high, even though he thinks he understands how three years of being so incredibly attached to anyone must either destroy the relationship or cement it forever. The way Will is, the way Will falls in love and wants to be loved back, Chris can imagine after a scant few months it would be an all-or-nothing game.

So even though he wants to say “I told you so,” because he has told him so many times, he doesn’t. He doesn’t point out that this is why he doesn’t believe in soulmates at all.

When Will and Sam break up it’s because Sam cheats and he isn’t safe or smart about it and he doesn’t tell Will until weeks after the fact.

Chris goes with Will to get tested because he’s due anyway. He watches movies on the couch for a whole weekend and runs to the pharmacy for anti-allergy medicine when Brian’s affinity for Will’s chest leaves Will with a chronic sniffle. He hugs Will tight on a mid-Sunday afternoon while Will doesn’t cry but rambles his way through a half a bottle of vodka. He keeps saying, “I knew he wasn’t it for me,” and “God what a waste of time,” and “I am so fucking stupid.”

All Chris says, and he means it from the core of his bones, is “You deserve so, so much better than that.”

Will says, “I’ll be thirty soon,” and then he passes out on the couch, Chris shifting only so far as to get Will’s head in his lap, his short hair under his fingers. Chris drifts in and out of sleep, speaking softly about nothing when Will stirs and pretending he doesn’t see or hear it when Will sniffles through a few spilt tears just as the owls start to call to each other outside.

“You deserve a proper soulmate,” Chris says quietly once Will’s slipped back under. “I really wish they were real.” Minutes later he adds, “I wish a lot of the shit from fairy tales was real,” and then he nods off to sleep as well.

———

Will recovers more quickly from heartbreak than Chris expects. He makes playlists and gets drunk and buries himself in work and in writing this or that screenplay. Chris laughs with him more, delighted to see the pain ebb away from him and an even more carefree version of Will return after a few weeks of melancholy.

They don’t talk about soulmates for a long time so instead they talk about sex. Chris details his exploits and Will shakes his head and tells him he’s pigeon-holed himself with a couple of boring fuckbuddies and is missing out on a lot. Chris doesn’t believe him but enjoys being told all the bullshit details of Will’s best sexcapades from years gone by.

Sunday night mojitos quickly turns into Sunday and Wednesday night cocktails and most Thursdays at Chris’s, with or without other friends and only occasionally with a bottle of wine.

When Chris goes to New York for weeks at a time they text during the day and skype in the evening when they can. Chris keeps expecting Ashley to say something about it but the most she ever gives him is a quirk of her eyebrow and a quick purse of her lips.

He ignores her and enjoys Will’s company.

———

“So let me get this straight,” Will begins, leaning forward over Chris’s kitchen counter. “You won’t give head unless you know you’re going to get it back. You won’t bottom. You won’t fuck a guy unless you’ve heard from someone else he’s worth it. And you absolutely do not fall in love with them?”

Chris shrugs and grins lazily, after the weekend he just had that all seems to be working pretty well for him. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why?” Will asks, collecting the moisture around the rim of class and licking it off the pad of his finger.

“Because that’s what I like,” Chris says simply. “I don’t  _want_  to bottom, I don’t  _want_  to go down on some guy just because, and I’ve seen what messy break ups and relationship negotiating look like. This is easy and fun and I can get it.” He takes a long drink of his diet coke and enjoys the incredulity radiating off Will from across the table. “Do you know what that’s like for me? Growing up, I was never gonna get any of this and now I can have all of it.”

Will screws his face up and finishes his own drink. “I get that, the getting out and realizing happiness thing, you know I get that. But don’t you want more?”

“This is the thing you don’t get,” Chris says waggling a finger at him. “You want to find your other half and I already feel whole.”

Will sighs and hangs his head down. “You’re never going to change your mind about this, are you?” he asks, eyes still down on the table. “You’re not interested in the happily ever after thing.”

“Nope,” Chris says, grinning until the gravity of the room catches him by surprise and makes his smile fall and his brow drop. He’s not sure what he just said no to and he has to stop himself from thinking too much about it.

The quiet lasts a beat too long and then Will straightens his back and grins crookedly. “Just for the record then: bottoming is fucking awesome, you’re missing out on that one,” he says and Chris just sighs again.

———

Chris’s breakup isn’t even really a breakup; there’s nothing to break, after all. Perhaps some small corner of his heart has cracked, he admits, sitting there on the corner of the hotel bed, but there can’t be anything broken because it was never anything that serious to begin with.

And yet he’s fighting back a scream. Which is silly because who screams when a booty call says it’s over? Three unanswered texts and then the third phone call answered; a quick conversation that isn’t hard feelings or anger, just simply a change of circumstance. Chris can’t even get his head around the fury and sadness bubbling in his belly. He’s Chris Colfer, the gay role model who wasn’t even really meant to be randomly hooking up with random boys. Boys who he knows only want him for the convenience of it and that’s really all Chris wants from them so why is it hurting?

He hits redial on his phone and once again all he gets is a busy signal and then Will’s familiar voicemail message. So he can’t talk about it, he won’t scream, and he doesn’t cry. Because it isn’t really a break up. Instead he raids the minibar and when that doesn’t work he calls for Room Service. He eats quietly and then slowly drinks half a bottle of wine as he tries to find his balance by skimming his eyes over the latest book chapter.

———

Will calls him back after midnight and once Chris has woken up from where he’s slumped over his laptop and has swiped to answer the call, he forgets how to speak.

Will’s tone changes quickly as Chris forces out half-sentences; moving from flat out worry to calm and soothing. Chris hates that Will’s in LA while he’s in New York but on the basis of their friendship there’s really no alternative. However even with a thousand miles between them Will knows something’s wrong and over a half an hour of intent verbal coaxing he gets Chris to reveal what.

Will doesn’t get it and he sounds angry when he says so. Not the hurting bit, the gut-deep ache that makes no sense but makes him want to scream, that bit Will understands, he’s familiar with heartbreak even if Chris refuses to identify this as such. But he doesn’t understand why Chris has fuck buddies who range from palatable to assholes but never rise above convenient.

“I don’t want anything more than that,” Chris tells him, voice rough from talking for too long and wrestling down something ugly and uncontrolled more than once.

“No and you’re not getting any more than that. I don’t get this obsession with taking the minimal amount of love from the world. It’s like you don’t think you deserve it or you don’t think it’s out there—“

“I  _don’t_  think it’s out there—“

“You deserve someone who worships you,” Will says fiercely and then goes quiet. When he starts again his voice is somehow smaller. “I’m sorry, but you do.”  

Chris doesn’t know what to say to that because he’s never really encountered it and he’s not sure it exists.

Will continues, “Not some fuckwit who just fucks you for the sake of it.” His voice rattles in a deep breath. “I know the sex you have seems easy and fun. I get that and I respect that you don’t want a relationship right now—“

“I don’t have time for—“

Will doesn’t let him finish. “What I don’t get, Chris, is where you find these guys, who can do this stuff with you and not fall head over heels in love with you. I don’t understand how anyone can get you that vulnerable and not want to make you happy?”

“Will, it’s never been like that.”

“Then what’s it like? Explain to me how what you’re feeling right now is any better than how you’d feel if you were trying for more? If you had a guy who wasn’t just treating you as a hook up? You keep telling me they’re nice and it makes you happy but I can hear exactly how unhappy you are.”

When Chris speaks again his voice has gone hollow. In New York, in his dark hotel room, he’s gripping the bottle of wine and trying to pour himself another glass. “I’m overreacting.”

Down the line Will sighs and Chris can imagine him pushing a hand through his hair. “You’re not. You fell for him a little bit and now you’re terrified.”

“Look where falling for him got me,” Chris tells him.

“You need to fall for someone who will fall for you back,” Will says. “Not some half-closeted, immature Hollywood layabout. You’re so fucking scared of being in a relationship because of how hard it might be but you got hurt anyway.”

There’s a lull and then, “I don’t believe in soulmates,” Chris tells him once more.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say and for a while there’s just breathing and even that makes Chris’s ache feel less. Will yawns and Chris hears the rustle of material. “You need to sleep and think and make a pig of yourself at whatever awesome breakfast the hotel puts on, okay?” Will says.

Chris laughs and thinks about tomorrow’s shoot. “Yeah.”

“Call me back tomorrow night.”

“Okay.”

“Good night.”

———

When Chris calls Will late the next night he half expects to get voicemail again. The shoot went long and then he’d gotten caught up with going out to dinner and Lea’s incessant chatter and the swirl of thoughts in his own head.

It’s after midnight in Los Angeles but Will picks up on the second ring and then it’s awkward half-sentences until Chris takes a deep breath and has to say, “It sounded like you were offering last night.”

Will’s end goes silent, Chris doesn’t even think he can hear breathing and after too many seconds he calls Will’s name to check he’s still on the line.

“Yeah,” Will says, and then retracts, “I mean, I’m still here.” And then, “And yeah I was offering.”

“What were you offering?”

Will laughs uncomfortably, voice high and tight and Chris wishes he’d waited until he was back in Los Angeles to have this conversation. He can read Will so much better in person.

“Chris, this is gonna fuck up our friendship,” Will warns.

“No it’s not.” Chris says it and doesn’t mean it:  _It will so fuck everything up._ But his mind races down possible stories he can’t control and there’s a shift too quick to really appreciate in his thinking. It’s all about Will; he wants Will.

Will sighs again and makes Chris wait several long seconds for a response. “I would worship you, given half a chance. That’s what I was offering.”

Chris goes silent. He’s thought about it all day, some rampant loose ideas like the ones he’s having now and some calculating logic; he had mostly convinced himself this conversation would run a different course. “Why?”

Another high, thready laugh and Will sounds like he’s stalling. “Because I think you deserve it and because I want to. I think it’s as simple as that.”

“Oh.” Chris stares at his nails and then flicks off the light over the hotel room desk. “Do you think I’m your soulmate?” He feels stupid for asking but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

“No,” Will responds and Chris can hear him swallowing down more words. “But I think you’re amazing and I think it’s fucked up that you’ve had all this sex and never had it be about more than getting off.” He adds more quietly: “No wonder you don’t think you want a relationship.”

“Is that what this would be?”

“You don’t want that.”

“So no?” Chris asks, acutely aware his fingertips feel numb and there are butterflies in his belly.

“I—“ Will cuts off and clears his throat. “I feel like this conversation has already made our relationship pretty weird so I’m just gonna say it.”

He waits for Chris to respond, an eventual, tentative, “Okay.”

“I just wanna fuck you once, however you want it, all your rules and it’s not even for me, it’s just… I think you deserve so much more and I think I can show you that. It drives me crazy to see you every day acting like you’ve got it all figured out and I just want one chance to show you how it can be.” He stops but Chris has no idea what to say so after another long pause, Will continues. “You should say no. Or yes, you can say yes and it can just be once and if we can still be friends after this conversation I’m pretty sure we could have one mildly drunk fuck and still be friends but I’m—“

“Okay.” Chris can’t quite believe he just agreed but he did, loud and clear and Will’s stopped rambling.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Chris says. “What have I got to lose?” he jokes.

Will swallows audibly. “Okay. When?” And that means this is actually happening, Chris is going to fuck his best friend because suddenly wanting to is flooding his system and he almost believes Will when he says how good it’s going to be. Almost.

———

Chris flies back to LA three days later and despite the complete impracticality of it, Will meets him at LAX, throws his case in the back of his car, and then begins the slow drive to Chris’s house.

The trip is absurdly awkward. They cover all aspects of Chris’s time in New York and all the missed gossip Los Angeles has to offer. And then they’re still stuck in traffic and, for once, they can’t find anything to talk about. “We’re still going to do this, right?” Chris says at one point, staring pointedly at the licence plate of the car in front of them.

“Yeah,” Will squeaks and then clears his throat. “I thought you wanted to do it now.”

“Absolutely.”

They both stare out the front window and it’s not until the next red light that Will turns to face Chris fully, cracks an unfairly easy smile and says, “We’re being really fucking weird about this.”

And Chris cracks up.

———

“So,” Chris begins, trying to swing his legs from where he’s perched on the end of his bed. “This is going to be good.”

Will continues to hover next to the bathroom doorway, the heat from Chris’s shower still misting the mirrors inside, Chris’s half unpacked bag still resting on the floor.

He swallows and Chris can see the bob of his Adam’s apple before he speaks. “Yeah. Well…” Will trails off and fidgets, crossing and then uncrossing his arms, turning his eyes back into the bathroom and forcing Chris to stare at the cords of his neck. “I didn’t really think this through,” Will admits.

Chris hopes that’s a lie. Chris hopes this is well thought through and rationalized. He hopes Will has thought about it as much as he has and his stomach drops dangerously to think Will has suddenly changed his mind.

“The whole… worship thing,” Will continues, starting to tick off imaginary ideas on his fingers. “It’s dependent on my getting off on you enough, like, I have to… not… love but… there has to be that connection…” His eyes dart from the carpet to Chris’s and they’re bright and black and honest. “I do though,” he says quietly and Chris can feel the weight of that admission; he wonders how long Will’s looked at him like that. “That bit’s fine, I want…” he trails off and ticks off another point on his fingers. “But you need to… with me, you have to return that.”

Chris stares at him and unbidden he wonders how any living breathing thing could be faced with Will and not want. He’s broad in the shoulders and narrow in the hips. His smile is gorgeous and stunningly easy, his eyes sparkle and Chris has seen enough skin in the past to think every inch of Will is touchable. Plus he’s smart and funny and all the other things that ‘a catch’ of a man needs to be.

And so touchable,  _god he looks touchable_. Chris has to force himself to back away from the idea because he hasn’t seen Will since they decided touching was an option and now that he knows he can he can’t stop thinking about it.

He needs to explain that to Will, admit that the want and the mutual admiration go both ways but his stomach won’t stop knotting and the irises of Will’s eyes seem to be getting closer and closer to dark chocolate brown as the seconds tick by.

Chris swallows and jokes, “I knew this was a trick to get me to be your soulmate.” He regrets it because his stomach knots more. 

“No you just… this isn’t going to work if you don’t… want me.” Will gets out and his eyes dip again, a frown passing over his lips. 

Chris still can’t get his tongue to work around all the ways in which he wants right now so he says, “Why would you think I don’t want you?”

Will glances up, gives a half smile and shrugs. He steps forward into the room and towards Chris properly, crowds into his space and god he smells strong. Not of aftershave but of sunlight and shampoo and Will.

Chris has to shake his head to dislodge the silly notion of sunlight as a smell.

“I think you are so fucking amazing,” Will whispers. “All of this, obviously,” and a hand skims from Chris’s temple, down his neck to squeeze at a shoulder; Chris leans into it. “But the stuff in here more so.” He taps Chris on the side of the head and then drops down to his knees in front of Chris, eyes wide and staring up.

Chris tries, “Back at you,” because he means it.

Will pulls a face and rests back on his haunches.

That unlocks Chris’s words, the moment of disappointment on Will’s face and the threat of this opportunity slipping away. “Seriously, you don’t think I’ve been thinking about this since we decided on it?” Chris says and the force of it shocks Will into looking back up at him, lips parted as he listens. “I want you. You’re… I feel it in the electricity under my skin and the way I can smell you even when you’re just in the same room. I want you and—”

Chris cuts off with a gasp that’s mostly shock as Will’s hands slide easily across his thighs, pushes his legs open and then he starts to press the heel of his hand against the curve of Chris’s dick where he’s still soft in his jeans. 

“I believe you,” Will tells him. “God, that’s sexy.”

Chris doesn’t even know what he means.

“You’re sexy,” Will says and Chris just stares. “How do you want this to go?”

———

Chris doesn’t want much. “Just make me come and use your mouth.”He stutters over the admission, “I love your mouth,” but he says it, Will hears it, and he grins. “He wasn’t super keen on blowjobs as a rule and…” he trails off.

“Well that’s just criminal,” Will tells him and then gets Chris’s pants all the way off, dragging them down with his underwear and even though Chris blushes, Will doesn’t look up long enough to notice. He takes Chris still half-hard into his mouth and sucks him the rest of the way there and then further, beginning to draw whimpers and moans as he learns how to work his mouth best on Chris’s cock.

He pulls off to talk and to look, stroking with a spit-wet hand and kneading at Chris’s thighs with his other hand. “I had no idea you were this amazing under your clothes,” he breathes. “I imagined and it didn’t even nearly do it justice.” He pinches and bites at Chris’s inner thighs and when Chris gasps at every blossom of pain, Will grins and does it again harder.

“Have any of the others ever stopped to tell you how insanely beautiful you are?” and he stares from thigh to thigh and then swallows his cock down again. “God, Chris,” he says it multiple times, always half-choked, always with a mouthful of dick.

“Tell me where you want me,” he says eventually, his mouth working Chris up and down but never close enough to make Chris want to fall. “Tell me how to make this good.”

Chris has no idea, lost in the heat of Will between his legs and the tug of pleasure that isn’t being laid on thick enough to be all about orgasm. He shakes his head dumbly.

“Okay,” Will smiles and kisses softly around the head. “What can’t I do?”

“Anything,” slips out and they both know that’s not how Chris operates. “Nothing,” he corrects. He can’t pinpoint what about this blowjob is different, how it’s undoing him so much slower than every other time a guy’s gone down on him, so much less effectively, but undoing him so much _more_.

Will pulls him wide and pushes his thighs up without warning and then buries his face against Chris’s ass, licking and kissing and fucking into him with his tongue, making Chris twist violently on the bed because  _fuck_.

Will does that until Chris has pushed himself onto all fours, obscene and spread and perfect for Will, and then completed the roll onto his back, his hands in Will’s hair and his thighs across Will’s shoulders, pulling him in tighter and riding up against his mouth. Will doesn’t speak, Chris thinks he probably can’t find the time or space, but Chris can feel so much where they touch and it makes his body shudder and his heart hammer in his chest.

When Will finally comes up for air, Chris keeps his legs wrapped around him, his ankles locked behind him, holding him close while Will deftly strokes over Chris’s cock. Will grins that same pleased-as-punch grin when he finds Chris sensitive and whining.

“You deserve this,” Will says, still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, his hair messed and his lips wet and red. “You actually deserve a lot more—” He doesn’t expect Chris to cut him off.

“Like what?”

Will kisses up the underside of his cock and speaks with his mouth milimeters from where Chris wants it. “Anything you want. You deserve someone who will get you off purely because you want it, not just because they want sex.”

“ _God.”_

“Look at you,” Will says and then has to stop and suck at one of Chris’s balls. “You deserve to be treated like a prince, like royalty,” and Will’s smile says he knows that works for Chris, knows him well enough to have guessed. “You are so fucking remarkable you could have anyone.”

 _“You,”_ Chris keens. “ _Will.”_

“Yeah, that’s right baby, gonna make you come, now.”

Will’s mouth starts a slow slide down Chris’s cock and Chris can’t hold back. “Tell me we can do this again,” he begs and Will pauses.

He pulls off and stares while Chris’s body shifts against the sheets, searching out pleasure on autopilot. “You’ll let me do this again?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“But with dinner? We already do all the hanging out and talking and fighting. If you want the sex, I want the dates.”

Chris stares down, at where his own T-shirt is plastered to his chest, to where Will is breathing hot air against his dick. “Yeah,” he says because he wants that so why would he say ‘no’. “God, yeah, it makes—” he cuts himself off before he admits it makes sense.

“Come in my mouth,” Will mumbles and Chris’s hands tighten in his hair. “Fuck my mouth and take what you like from me because it is so fucking hot that I can give that to you.”

“Jesus,  _Will!”_

Will sinks his mouth down and feels the hot throb of Chris against his tongue. Chris’s voice breaks clear through the rush of blood in his head as he sucks hard and twists his lips. It’s broken and keening and it reverberates through Will’s blood. “Kiss me. Oh  _god_ , you haven’t kissed me yet—”

Chris’s hips arch up and his hands slip from Will’s hair to the sheets to grasp and twist and he spills a streak across Will’s tongue.

Will indulges for a half a second, around the taste and the heavy heat of the cock against his tongue, he knows it is well earned and his ears are ringing with the realization he just made Chris Colfer come, that Chris is going to date him, that Chris wants to kiss him.

And then he rockets up Chris’s body before a second, stronger line of come can spill, scrambles up with his knees on the edge of the bed and Chris’s legs still caught up somewhere over Will’s arms and shoulders as Will falls onto his hands either side of Chris’s head and falls down even further to kiss him.

Chris’s dick spurts again across Will’s shirt where it’s caught between them but neither notices the mess they’re making. Chris’s mouth is open and wanton as Will kisses and kisses and kisses. He kisses him until the taste of come is gone and then there’s just them. He kisses him harder and deeper until they can’t taste each other, they can only taste the sex and the whimpers Chris makes as the last dribble of pleasure is pull from him and it starts to get too much. Will kisses Chris as Chris moans and arches under him, with his knees next to Will’s ears and his ankles crossed between Will’s shoulder blades and his T-shirt rucked up between them. 

When Chris finally gives in to it and collapses back against the bed, open-mouthed, closed-eyes, Will kisses him for seconds longer, sucking his bottom lip and then biting at the top and then just kissing indiscriminately against him while Chris goes loose and useless.

He kisses him until Chris whines and pushes Will back with uncoordinated hands so he can get his legs back down at a normal angle and Will can’t help but comment, “Mmm, bendy.”

Chris starts giggling and then flops, pushing Will off to the side because he’s so goddamn hot his cheeks feel like they’re on fire and there’s denim and wet cotton scratched over the sensitive skin of his thighs and his light T-shirt feels heavy and stuck to his skin. “Give me a minute,” Chris mumbles.

He tries to get his breathing under control while Will strips his own messed shirt away, falls back to the bed and says happily, “Take as long as you want.” 

———

Chris is splayed on his back, T-shirt still sweat-stuck to his skin, still trying to catch his breath when he opens his eyes, finds Will with his own shirt off and his jeans still on, lying on his belly beside him. He doesn’t think, he just whispers, “You should fuck me.”

Will gasps and Chris can tell by the way he stops rubbing against the mattress that he still hasn’t come but is only just holding on. “You told me you don’t…” Will whispers back.

“You told me I was wrong,” Chris counters and his body throbs with a new kind of wanting. He wants Will inside him. His ass feels licked open but never filled properly and he can’t remember that feeling. He can’t remember feeling teased like that, certainly not after he’s come so fucking beautifully and still wants more.

He wants other things, too but he’s still trying to process those thoughts. “I’ve done it before,” he tells Will. “It’s just never… I’ve never really wanted to do it and now I really, really do.”

Will screws his eyes closed and groans and Chris watches his body roll down in one rough push against the bed. His hips keep fucking down in little hard circles as he says, “I want you to be wrong about so much of it.”

“Me, too,” Chris says. “So fuck me.”

Will’s eyes spring open and they dance with something. For a second Chris thinks he’s coming in his pants but his voice is too even when he says, “No. Next time.”

“Please,” Chris murmurs, turning his body closer in against Will’s, breathing deep across the skin of his neck. He doesn’t think about the fact he just begged.

Will laughs and wiggles further away. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he says and at the expression on Chris’s face he giggles—Chris’s heart flips—and reassures, “God, I want to. But you should just kiss me again and I’ll come in my pants.”

So Chris does, leaning over him and lavishing him with kisses, trying them out as he flicks through every kiss he can remember in his mind and tries it on with Will. He kisses him deep and hard, fucking into his mouth with his tongue and biting his lips. And then he tries them soft and sucking, caressing across Will’s lips and then his cheeks and then down his neck.

Will is on his back with both hands on Chris’s cheeks, holding his mouth to his and kissing him breathless when he moans against Chris’s lips and bucks off the bed.

Chris kisses him through it even though he wants to watch. 

———

They lie on the bed, a mess of sweaty half-off clothes and haphazard limbs for hours afterwards.

Will says, “Just because I make you want to break your rules doesn’t mean it’ll be easy or feel good.”

And Chris responds quickly with, “All evidence to the contrary.”

Will grins and Chris grins back.

Later Will interlaces their fingers and that’s so foreign that Chris pulls their clasped hands up in front of his face to look. “Chris,” Will says seriously. “When I said I didn’t think you were my soulmate.”

Chris hums to hear more but doesn’t respond otherwise.

“I wasn’t lying,” Will says. “You can’t know someone’s your soulmate unless you try but I think maybe you might be.”

Chris listens as Will holds his breath and then Chris holds his breath and listens harder and thinks he can hear their hearts beating.  _So this is a paradigm shift,_ he thinks.

“I don’t believe in soulmates,” he says and smiles quietly to himself. “I’m starting to believe in dating,” he says once he’s listened to the lack of breathing in the room again.

Will finally draws a deep breath. “I’d be glad to assist in strengthening that belief.”

“Of course,” Chris says, and then he smiles again and wonders where all of this is going and just how disastrous it could end up being.

———

In the end Will knows Chris is his soulmate and Chris knows soulmates don’t exist. They tease each other about it, usually over lazy Sunday mornings in bed and sometimes they argue about it, usually when work or family or life gets a bit too much and an argument about something so silly feels like a release.

In the end they both agree that they’re head over heels in love and haven’t yet stopped falling, that they’re beautifully compatible and complementary in ways their friends envy, and that they make each other feel more even while they are still able to be wholly themselves. They aren’t settling for less than everything and they aren’t waiting around because they can’t imagine finding anything more.

Will calls Chris his soulmate and Chris calls Will the love of his life and that, they agree, is a pretty good start to a happily ever after.


End file.
